


An Unlikely Pair

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Distressing ending, Florist AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tattoo parlor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:19:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6900178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the prompt: Send me “peek in the mirror” and I’ll tell you what I think our muses would be like in a Flower shop/Tattoo parlor AU</p><p>Mishka is about as welcoming as a cactus, but that doesn't bother Adrian very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Pair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [levigate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/levigate/gifts).



> Huge thanks to GhastlyBeast for letting me upload this!

Adrian was a modest and very kind neighbor. His little parlor was neat, simple, modern and yet rustic in some aspects. On one of the large, clear windows was a simple sign that proclaimed “ _Muted Ink_ ” but very few of Adrian’s clients ever wanted dull and dreary colors.

Next to his quiet and airy little parlor was a very peculiar and specific flower shop. The plants were anything but soft and pretty. In fact, the plants were oftentimes carnivorous. Their gaping, toothy mouths just waiting for a foolish fly to fall into their trap. Among the fly eaters were rare and exotic plants, their colors pleasing to the eye, but the amount of work they required was often a put off for customers.

* * *

Adrian was never good with meeting new people. It was awkward, and the responses he got always varied. Some pitied his lack of voice, some even questioned how it happened boldly, oftentimes expecting that some awful accident had claimed his voice. Needless to say, they were often embarrassed by their behavior. 

He didn’t know what to expect when he introduced himself to Mishka, his small notebook in hand and a purple pen in the other. At first, he could hardly even see the man through all the greenery. The little bell above the door had alerted the florist to his entry, and he stood still while Mishka gave him a gruff order to stay still and not to touch _anything_.

Adrian had stood quiet still, nervously pulling at his golden lip ring while he waited. Eventually, though, a short man with long, dark hair and large scowl weaved his way through the plants skillfully, giving Adrian a once over with impassive green eyes.

“What do you want?” He asked, eyeing the notepad curiously while instead of answering him, the taller man began _to write_. 

Dark brows rose as the man turned the paper towards him, and he read the statement with a grumble.

‘ _I was just coming to introduce myself. I’m Adrian. I bought the lot next to your place - just getting set up. I can’t verbally speak - sorry for the confusion.’_

“Adrian,” Mishka repeated what he had read while crossing his arms, giving the odd guy another look. He was tall, thin and freckled. Had that annoyingly hopeful look in his bright green eyes. His hair was impossibly neat and his handwriting mirrored the perfection. Both ears pierced, and a lip ring. Not to mention the ink sprawled along the side of his right arm. 

Yup, totally a new age tattoo artist. Adrian fit the bill to a tee.

“Nice to meet you. But what do you _want_?” Mishka didn’t have time to bullshit around the bush. He had plants that needed watering and shipping details that needed finalizing. Annoyingly enough, Adrian’s lips quirked into a _smirk,_ as if he wasn’t worried by his gruff exterior. “You need a plant or something?”

‘ _I’ll look into buying a plant. The parlor is a bit empty right now anyways. But I should get going, Mister…?’_

 _The Parlor._ Who the fuck talked - _wrote_ like that? Mishka sighed to himself, rolling his eyes at the written words.

“Mishka. Let me know when you make up your mind about a plant.” He smoothed a hand down the apron at his front and left Adrian standing by the door quietly.

* * *

When Adrian wasn’t busy ordering ink or sketching up his clients desired designs, he would often find himself staring over towards his neighbor’s shop. Mishka was a rather grumpy and rash man, seemingly to really only ever care about _his plants_. The artist found it somewhat amusing, as well as a little off-putting.

Being the new kid on the block was a bit nerve wracking, especially since most people found his shops constant state of near silence to be odd. The phone never rang, and the _only_ people who spoke were the clients that whisked their way in and out of the glass door. Whenever there wasn’t some light and catchy tunes playing, the freckled artists parlor was unnervingly quiet and calm.

In contrast, the flower shop was much more lively. The owner could often be heard yelling at some poor sap, either on the phone or in person. Adrian tried his best to ignore it and keep his head down, out of trouble. Besides, Mishka was still reeling in plenty of business, so in some aspect, his noisy and grumpy behavior was strangely _charming_. Adrian couldn’t place his finger on it, though.

* * *

Charming was a funny thing to think of Mishka as. Given that for the first several months, the florist was about as friendly as a cactus. But Adrian hadn’t been deterred, his mother always taught him that there was no point in ever giving up on somebody. Everybody deserved an effort. _Everyone_.

Even grumpy, moody and oftentimes aggressive florist with golden eyes and messy black hair.

Adrian had not been joking about buying a plant but had done research into what kind of plant would best be suited for his working environment. He dares not take the living creature home to his apartment, for fear that he would _forget_ about it among the messy sketches and half-finished portraits.

Instead, he thinks that it would be quite nice to keep the plant here, in the safety of his parlor. Where there was plenty of sunlight in the wide, open windows.

He walks into Mishka’s shop on a sunny, Friday night. The season of summer was just upon them, breathing fresh air into an otherwise cold environment. He knew just what he wanted, and while he waited by the door, green eyes searched the equally green floral shop in front of him.

Mishka came to him wearing that same, muddy apron and frowning expression. Never deterred, the tattooist flashed him a stunning smile and proceeded to point towards a rather sad, small and oddly shaped cactus in the corner. It looked like the runt of the litter next to all the other tall, proud and spiky cacti.

“You want a fucking _cactus_?” Mishka had deadpanned, brows raising in surprise while Adrian nodded enthusiastically and dug into his pocket to fish out his wallet. Sighing, he shook his head and moved over to collect the plant, its brown clay pot smoothes along his fingertips. “You know what, just _take_ it. This thing isn’t going to sell anyways.”

And like that, Adrian’s arms were suddenly full of a cactus, and he was being pushed out the door. In his haste, he hardly even noticed Mishka’s amused and amazed smile. It was so small and quick, that he almost mistook it for a stern frown when the door slowly fell shut behind him.

* * *

He _lovingly_ named the small, pathetic cactus Frank. And displayed his new plant in the middle of his desk, with a little lamp to help coax the cacti into something greater.

He didn’t mind if it stayed small, though. Frank was perfect the way it was.

Clients always commented on the plant, and Adrian always smiled proudly and directed them towards the florist next door for all their green thumb needs. Even if Mishka was as deadly as some of his plants.

* * *

For several months, they played a little game of cat and mouse. Adrian oftentimes popping in unannounced to question Mishka about plants, or just to browse. Mishka would make small talk about Frank, to show that he _at least_ cared, a little bit anyways.

But soon random visits to the florist soon turned into an _invitation_ to go get coffee sometime. And then it was a weekly occurrence.

They never labeled it anything else than just _friends_. Getting coffee, and sharing small talk between notes and breathy laughs in the corner of the shop.

From coffee came a few dinners. Mostly shared at Adrian’s parlor, mostly Chinese takeout or cheap pizza from down the street.

And, if they shared their first kiss with the taste of _Jo’s Sweet Chicken_ on their lips, well that wasn’t anybody’s business, now was it?

* * *

Mishka found himself pondering their relationship after that night, his fingertips oftentimes straying up to brush his lips as he thought everything over. After Adrian had kissed him, he’d been quick to make an exit, heart stuttering inside his chest and face red and apologetic as he saw Adrian frown.

For a few days, he avoided the parlor like the _plague_ , too tangled up in his own thoughts and emotions to even think about confronting the freckled artist.

It wasn’t necessarily _bad_. In fact, he quite _liked_ the eager feel of Adrian’s lips against his own. But he didn’t know how to catalog his emotions. On one hand, he _wanted_ to kiss Adrian. He wanted that connection, something and someone to hold onto.

But, on the other hand… he felt _conflicted_. Previous relationships in the past had left him closed off, irritable and easily put down. Something that he reacted to with anger and violence. That wasn’t something Adrian deserved, and he didn’t want to put _himself_ through that again…

However, Adrian was kind and gentle. He was hopeful and understanding. Nothing ever seemed to dampen his _annoyingly_ bright mood. He’d never shown any harm towards Mishka, and hardly even reacted when the man snarled and growled at him in the beginning. Adrian reminded him much like a stray.

Something you couldn’t help but to love after a while. He rubbed off on you like a sweet perfume.

After three days of debating, Mishka pushed open the door to _Muted Ink_ with determined eyes and trembling hands. He’d caught the artist off guard, right in the middle of a tattoo sketch, but - at least he’d finally returned that kiss.

Adrian’s stunned face made him feel a bit better, anyways.

* * *

Kisses soon evolved into dinner dates. Which then turned into awkward invites to each other’s respective homes. A few uncomfortable runs to the gas station was all it took until the people working the night shift knew what was up.

Mishka scowled at their waggling brows, and Adrian nearly died of embarrassment right on the spot whenever he had to make _the run._

After months of this, Mishka found himself dedicating a drawer to Adrian’s things, and likewise at Adrian’s home.

Eventually, though, Adrian insisted that the florist meets his mother. Mishka _paled_ at the thought. He’d heard of Eve, knowing that Adrian was often times texting her or writing emails to keep in touch.

The day Adrian got him all dolled up and preened to perfection was the day Mishka really _knew_ that he was in it for the long run. It really didn’t help his case that Adrian looked oddly _stunning_ in relaxed business casual. And really, why were they even wearing this? His mother was a rancher, not a business shark.

But when the door opened to reveal an impressively tall woman with sharp, calculating green eyes and a red-lipped smile, Mishka was glad to be wearing a few extra layers.

It was safe to say that Mishka escaped that evening _mostly_ unscathed, even if Evelyn acted like a sea monster when it came to ensuring that her boy got only the best.

After a few more awkward dinners and frequent texts, Evelyn warmed up to him, and suddenly, that sharp-toothed sea monster turned into a kind and gentle guardian.

* * *

As their three-year mark crept upon them, Mishka found himself grappling with what to get the taller man. Another plant? Golden eyes gazed over towards several of his own plants, each hanging near the window in the kitchen.

 _No, no,_ he thought. They had far too many plants as it was.

Their shared apartment barely held enough room for the two of them, but they made it work. They had a nice view of the park from here, and it was aptly located right next to their little shops. They could walk to work if need be, and they honestly found themselves doing that more and more.

Before he could put much thought into the gift, he heard Adrian’s familiar trudging echo up the stairs. Three quick steps brought him to the door, and he opened it before the other man even knocked.

Panting with his shoulders slumped, Adrian offered Mishka his best smile before allowing the shorter man to take a bag from his grip. Grocery shopping when you lived six flights up was a pain in the ass, and this place had yet to get a working elevator. Part of the reason it was mostly _cheaper_ than others.

Adrian kicked the door closed behind him with a silent sigh, placing the things on the counter top and then turning to greet his flatmate with a kiss.

“How’d it go?” Mishka drawled once they parted, lips quirking up for a moment as he began to unpack things.

Adrian shrugged, indicating that it was either boring or nothing exciting to report. Same old same old. He couldn’t say that he minded. They both had settled into their new life easily enough, enjoying the company they shared together and the simply domesticated routine was quite relaxing.

They unpacked in silence, never really bothered by the quietness of their home. Once they were done, Adrian had herded Mishka towards the couch, more or less plopping down against his side and settling in comfortably. Mishka allowed himself to curl his fingers through Adrian’s soft, short hair, watching the notepad in Adrian’s hand with diligent interest.

_‘Isn’t your new shipment coming in tomorrow?’_

Mishka gave an affirmative hum, nodding accordingly. “Yeah. If the fucking driver doesn’t miss the turn this time and ends up in _Iowa_ or some shit.”

Adrian’s lips quirked in amusement, and he flipped another page open before writing quickly.

_‘I’m sure they won’t miss. I have to go make a few runs tomorrow, just to buy some new paper and pencils for the parlor. You want to tag along?’_

Mishka read over the note with a rumble of debate. “Normally, I’d say _hooray_ to going to your weird ass artist store, but with that shipment in - I better make sure nobody was clipping my plants or something. Quality control.”

The mute artist nodded in understanding, folding up his notebook in favor of grabbing the remote and boredly flipping through channels. Mishka allowed himself to loop an arm around the taller man’s middle, drawing him closer with a positively devious look in his eyes.

Hell, they had a few hours to kill. Cheesy romance flicks always made Adrian’s lips curl into the most _delightful_ smiles.

It almost scared Mishka to realize that he lived for those moments more and more each day.

* * *

The next day, Adrian pushed into the flower shop with his keys in hand and a wide smile on his face as he took in all the new arrivals. Mishka’s metaphorical _babies_.

It took Mishka a second to notice him, too busy investigating a rare red fern to be really paying much attention to the bell chiming above the door. Eventually, though, he stiffened in surprise as two arms wrapped around him before relaxing once he realized it was merely Adrian.

“You headed off to buy those supplies?” He asked, turning to face the man as Adrian notched his chin atop Mishka’s shoulders. A nod was all he got in return, and the florist sighed out a growl before pressing his lips to the other’s freckled cheek. “You drive safe. And don’t buy anything useless.”

Letting Adrian loose in an arts and crafts store was like letting a little boy loose in a toy store, or worse, the _candy_ section of the supermarket.

The artist made a face and squeezed Mishka tighter with an odd grumble of his own before pulling back. His fingers lingered on the other’s shoulders and he sent him a small smile before jingling his keys and heading out the door.

* * *

The red lights were insufferably _long_ in this city. Adrian’s fingers danced across the steering wheel as he let the rock music play softly in the background. Ah, the _eighties_. He’s glad he was only a baby towards the end of that era.

After what felt like hours, the light finally flickered to green, and Adrian was hurrying to get through the intersection and keep traffic flowing. Hurrying so fast, that he hadn’t even registered the car zipping through the red light, or heard the blaring horns from warning drivers.

But by that point, it was already far too late.

* * *

Mishka felt sick. It was nearing two weeks after the crash but his arms still shook and his mouth was still dry. Adrian’s mother had visited him several times, but Mishka had been barred from entering the ICU where Adrian lay, unconscious.

It was only thanks to Evelyn’s sharklike personality that she was able to wrangle the doctor into allowing a few visits. It made Mishka wonder just what kind of ranch hands she had working for her up in that impressive piece of land.

So there he stood, shaking by the entrance to the small, deathly silent room. Evelyn told him that it was _bad_. But she stood by his side, a silent sentinel of comfort when needed.

Swallowing down the dread he felt building in his throat, Mishka shifted his hold on Frank’s vase and finally rounded the corner of the room. Eve was right.

_It was bad._

Frank almost clattered to the ground at his feet, but he managed to hold onto the plant for dear life, his eyes focused on Adrian lying underneath the covers.

His head was tipped back, and a clear, thin tube had been gracelessly shoved between his teeth. He had several IV lines in his left arm and a finger monitor on his right. The man had yet to wake up yet, and the doctors were preparing to declare him comatose.

Adrian skin looked deathly pale, making the dark ink crawling over his arm look so much more _vibrant_. A mirage of colors and darkness, swirling together into unfamiliar shapes as Mishka felt hot _tears_ prick his eyes.

He could do this.

Sucking in a deep breath, the florist quietly moved to place Frank by his bedside, hoping to at least offer Adrian some sort of comfort in this strange and disinfected room.

Evelyn stayed by the door, her eyes elsewhere while Mishka wearily collapsed into a chair beside the bed. His hands hesitated, outstretched and nervous before he finally wrapped them _delicately_ around Adrian’s right hand.

He held him _gently_ , afraid that if he squeezed too hard, the man’s thin and skillful fingers would break under his touch. For a second, there was silence. The only sound being the odd, different breaths of a machine. Mishka had slept with the man for so long, spooned up against him, that he _knew_ what Adrian sounded like in his sleep.

It was a rhythmic and unique breathing pattern. Something he would never, could never, forget.

This machine wasn’t doing a very good job of matching that breathing pattern.

Finally, Mishka wet his lips and blinked back the biting tears to offer up his voice to the sleeping man in the bed beside him. “Adrian?” His thumb brushed over a dusting of freckles along the taller man’s knuckles.

His throat clenched up painfully, a few warm, devastated tears finally slipping out of dark lashes as he held the injured man’s hand a little tighter. “It’s o-okay,” He soothed, his voice low and breathing erratic as he felt control slipping away.

It’s okay.

Evelyn watched with a heavy heart as Mishka finally let out a painful sob, trying and failing to hush himself. She knew from experience that it was better to grief and let it all out than to hold it in and suffer in silence.

None of the nurses walking by even paused to listen to his crying, having probably heard the sound of it a thousand times, from this very room alone.

“Y-You’re going to be-”

_Okay._

_Do you hear me? You’re going to be…_

_Okay…_

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that ended on a sour note. Sorry :C
> 
> I hope to write more BloodBorne in the future - in the actual setting too!
> 
> I do have a daemon au I've considered posting. :'c


End file.
